


Snow Day

by Corycides



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 12:22:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1070421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corycides/pseuds/Corycides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frost crusted the windows like sugar. Charlie sat on the window sill and breathed on the glass, the warmth of her breath melting the ice enough to see out. Not that it made any difference. It was white: white sky, white ground, a white world. No sign of Miles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow Day

**Author's Note:**

> sharksonfiretonight's prompt: If you get the time I'd love to read a Rachel/Charlie snowed in fic where they are finally forced to have a decent conversation which doesn't lead into them killing people

 

Frost crusted the windows like sugar. Charlie sat on the sill and breathed on the glass, the warmth of her breath melting the ice enough to see out. Not that it made any difference. It was white: white sky, white ground, a white world. No sign of Miles.

Worry gnawed at Charlie’s bones, cracking down the marrow. He should have been back a week ago.

‘There’s no water,’ Rachel complained.

She shuffled into the living room, wrapped in a colourful, patched quilt and wearing two pairs of socks, mittens and a hat with fluffy ears on it. There was nothing of Rachel, just thin skin over spare bone. Whatever padding she’d gotten back during her stay in Willoughby had melted away while they were on the run from the Patriots.

Charlie could sympathise. The whining was starting to wear on her though.

‘I’ll get some,’ she said, sliding off the window. ‘Miles isn’t back.’

From the look Rachel gave her, Charlie’s fretting was starting to wear on her too.

‘He’ll be fine,’ Rachel said. Her mouth twisted, that shadow of almost-dislike tugging it down at the corner. ‘Miles is always fine. The world could fall down around his ears, and Miles will walk out of the ruins.’

‘That’s not fair,’ Charlie said.

Rachel gave her a scathing look. ‘You don’t know him like I do.’

‘Maybe that’s because you both lie to me so much,’ Charlie said flatly. She stalked away into the kitchen and unhooked her thick, down stuffed jacket from behind the door, squirming into it. She grabbed the bucket and headed out, crunching through the snow. Five steps out and if it wasn’t for the guide rope they’d strung up, she’d have been lost. One hand on it and the other dangling the bucket against her leg, Charlie slogged her way out to the well.

The rope was stiff with ice, cracking as Charlie unlooped it and dropped the bucket down. By the time she got the water and stumbled back to the house, Charlie felt as ice-bound as the rope. She dropped the bucket, splashing water over the tiles, and stripped off her layers.

‘You’re blue,’ Rachel said, hurrying over. She swung the edge of the quilt around Charlie, ignoring her warnings about the damp. ‘Do you want to catch your death.

Charlie mutely let Rachel mother her back into the other room. It was always like this. Rachel slipping from icy rationality and childish jabs to the mother Charlie remembered when she was little. The only thing was...she wasn’t little anymore and they couldn’t seem to find any other plane to meet on.

‘I’m sorry,’ Rachel said, tugging Charlie down onto the couch. Under the quilt, Charlie unlaced her wet boots and kicked them off. She tucked her feet up under her and awkwardly settled against Rachel’s shoulder. ‘No matter what I think - what I used to think - of Miles, I know he loves you. I know he’ll keep you safe, that’s all that matters to me.’

Warmth started to tingle itchily in Charlie’s fingers and toes. She folded her arms, tucking her hands into her armpits and pinning them down with her elbows.

‘I wish you’d just tell me the truth.’

Rachel sighed, a soft, visible exhalation. ‘No, you don’t,’ she said.

‘Don’t -’

‘He was a bad man; he did bad things,’ Rachel said, squeezing Charlie’s elbow. ‘Do you really want to know the details? The bloody blow by blow? I wish I didn’t. He’s changed. Monroe’s changed. It’s all...changed. Let the past go.’

Charlie hunched her shoulder, pulling the muffling quilt up to her ears. ‘Did you cheat on Dad with him?’ she asked, so quietly it was like she didn't want anyone to hear her.

‘...yes,’ Rachel said, voice gone precise and tight around the corners. ‘I’m not proud of it.’

‘Did Dad know?’

Rachel nodded slowly, pale hair drifting around her face. ‘He did. We worked through it.’

‘How? He’s Dad’s brother - was Dad’s brother.’

A slow, ‘silly idiot’ smile lit up Rachel’s face. ‘We had you,’ she said. ‘That made it worth trying.’

Charlie nodded. She huddled down in the blankets trying to think of all her other questions, the accusations she was never quite brave enough to make because they couldn’t be taken back. In the end, she didn’t voice any of them.

‘Was that the worst thing he did?’

‘No.’

‘Could I forgive him?’

Rachel breathed in slowly and then let it out. ‘It’s not your place to. He didn’t do it to you. He’s a better man than he ever was, Charlie. He loves you. He’s been a good man, for you. So...that’s all you need to know. Believe me. Just this once.’

Charlie didn’t know if she did, but she caught her head nodding anyhow. Miles and Rachel were all she had. Maybe the truth wasn’t so important, not if it meant she’d lose them again.

They sat on the sofa in safe silence for a long time, until Charlie felt muggy-damp and the ache had drained from her marrow. After a while Rachel put her arm around her, cuddling her close. After a minute of awkward, all angles silence, they both mutely agreed that was too far and went back to just sitting next to each other.

 


End file.
